


the buoyancy of the human heart

by Quintessence



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Has Abandonment Issues, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24917503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessence/pseuds/Quintessence
Summary: "Keith stays half-hidden behind Shiro’s leg, arm wrapped around his calves, eyes guarded and uncertain.  And Lance simply gets a sense.  It’s not a sense he can explain, exactly.  An instinct, he supposes, one he’s developed from years of playing with little siblings, from babysitting for cousins and neighborhood kids, from helping out at the church daycare.  Lance has gotten a good eye for knowing when something isn’t exactly right about a kid.  So he can tell that the hesitant but intent way Keith’s eyes scan the room isn’t mere shyness.  It’s something more.  Something serious."In which alien technology reverts Keith to a child in both mind and body, and certain things come to light.
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 343





	the buoyancy of the human heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [subparegg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/subparegg/gifts).



> hello everyone!!!!!! a few things:
> 
> \-- this was a request i got on tumblr that i ended up having a ton of fun w!!!! i can't say too much about the request process on ao3 for tos reasons, but information can be found on my tumblr, which is linked in the end note!!!
> 
> \-- it has been a hot minute since i was involved in the voltron fandom (like 2.5 years i think??) & i don't think i ever ended up watching the final two or three seasons. i mention that to say that i'm playing quite fast & loose w canon, so pls forgive me if this isn't totally canon compliant.
> 
> \-- title is from one of my favorite poems, "on this the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the titanic, we reconsider the buoyancy of the human heart." (yes, it's a monster of a title, but a great poem)
> 
> \-- warning for implied emotional abuse & pretty major abandonment issues should that be something you don't like to read
> 
> okay, that's all from me!!!!! i hope you enjoy the fic!!!!

“Don’t freak out,” Shiro says, standing in the entryway to the Castle of Lions’s rec room, feet planted wide.

Hunk pops up from where he’d been lounging on the couch, feet kicked over the arm, reading a book.

“You know, when you say that, my first instinct is to freak out, actually.”

Shiro crosses his arms.

“Well, don’t.”

Pidge lifts a hand from her controller to flash a quick thumbs up, not taking her eyes off the game on the screen.

“Not freaking out. Got it.”

Lance rests his comic book on his lap and crosses his legs, leaning back against the couch.

“If you’re going to say something that ominous, you gotta at least explain why.”

Shiro rubs his thumb and forefinger along his forehead as if warding off a headache and sighs deeply.

“Keith and I went to negotiate that alliance with the Kuluta civilization this morning. And it went well. They’re on our side and everything. But there was a slight… mishap. In a laboratory. Now, I want to preface this by saying that I spoke to the lead scientist, and it’s temporary. It should wear off in less than twenty-four hours. And I am once again reminding you  _ not  _ to freak out.”

“Are you about to turn around and show us that you sprouted a tail or something?” Lance quips.

Shiro shoots him a look, and then turns back out into the hall, gesturing at something out of Lance’s line of sight.

“Keith?” he says, voice soft. “Can you come here, please? I’ve got some friends I want you to meet, okay?”

Lance is just about to ask why in God’s name Shiro is speaking to Keith like that, and why Keith hasn’t taken a swing at him for it yet, when Keith totters into view and Lance immediately has his answer.

Because this is Keith, unmistakably. The same wide, dark eyes, the same unruly mop of black hair, the same determined slope of his mouth. But this Keith can’t be more than three and a half feet tall, his sharp features softened by baby fat, his limbs impossibly small.

“ _ What?”  _ Hunk demands. Pidge says nothing, but she pauses her game and sets down the controller to stare.

“Listen,” Shiro says, “All things considered, this really isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to us. And like I said, it’s temporary. By tomorrow morning, he should be back to normal. But for all intents and purposes, he’s reverted back to a six-year-old. Mentally, too. He doesn’t have any memories beyond what he had at age six. So he doesn’t know any of us. He’s a child on a spaceship without the first idea how or why. So we need to be as patient and understanding as we can, okay?”

Keith stays half-hidden behind Shiro’s leg, arm wrapped around his calves, eyes guarded and uncertain. And Lance simply gets a sense. It’s not a sense he can explain, exactly. An instinct, he supposes, one he’s developed from years of playing with little siblings, from babysitting for cousins and neighborhood kids, from helping out at the church daycare. Lance has gotten a good eye for knowing when something isn’t exactly right about a kid. So he can tell that the hesitant but intent way Keith’s eyes scan the room isn’t mere shyness. It’s something more. Something serious.

“He can stay with me, if you need,” Lance says. “I’m sure you’re busy. And I’ve done plenty of babysitting in my time, so I’d be happy to.”

The words are out of his mouth before Lance even realizes what he’s saying. It’s simply the older brother in him, he supposes. The uncle. The caretaker. That part of him just can’t bear to see a child look so frightened and alone, not without something in his chest tugging sharply just beneath his sternum and simply demanding that he do something about it. Demanding that he ease this child’s fear, even if only for a day. Even if he’s all but forgotten about it by tomorrow.

And yes, perhaps it’s strange, given that the child is in fact a friend of Lance’s, that they fought and bickered and argued for months before they finally reached a mutual respect and understanding. Perhaps it’s strange, seeing as how Keith knows his way around a sword better than anyone Lance has ever known, that he’s killed in battle and will do it again. But that doesn’t really matter to Lance right now. All that matters is that there’s a small, frightened child standing in front of him, and that in this moment, Lance wants nothing more than to help him.

“You’d really watch him for today?” Shiro asks.

“Yeah, not a problem.”

Shiro’s shoulders relax quite visibly.

“That would be great, actually. I’ve still got several things to finish up with the alliance agreement, so if you’re sure you can handle it, it would really be a huge help.”

“Keith?” Lance says. Keith takes a half-step backwards, retreating farther behind Shiro’s leg. “Would you be okay if we played together today? I think we’ll have a lot of fun.”

Keith hesitates for a moment, clearly turning it over in his mind, until at last he nods, just barely perceptible.

“If you end up needing any help or anything, let me know,” Shiro says. “I’ll be on the main deck.”

Lance nods.

“Why don’t you come over here and join me, Keith?” he says. “Shiro won’t be far, okay? I promise.”

Keith pauses for just a moment, hesitating, a strange, tense look in his dark eyes. But after a few seconds, he clenches his small fists at his sides and begins to head towards Lance, steps slow and determined. Shiro flashes Lance a quick thumbs up from behind Keith’s back, and he nods in acknowledgement before Shiro turns and heads down the hallway.

Keith reaches Lance and then just stops. He doesn’t meet Lance’s eyes, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any movement to join him on the couch. He just stands there, small body stiff and cagey, as if he were waiting for something.

“Hey, Keith,” Lance says. “Do you want to have a seat?”

That must be it, because Keith nods and clambers onto the couch beside Lance, crossing his legs in front of himself and resting his hands in his lap, still not meeting Lance’s eye.

Lance can’t help the weight that settles in his stomach as he watches Keith. What sort of six-year-old kid waits to be invited to sit down? Lance was a polite kid, sure, and his siblings were raised the same, but this seems like a step too far. This seems like a kid carefully tip-toeing through a minefield, wary of the inevitable explosion.

“I haven’t introduced myself,” Lance says, noting how Keith still doesn’t look up even when he speaks. “I’m Lance. And we’re gonna get to hang out together today. Sound fun?”

Keith simply nods, but says nothing. So much for making conversation.

“So, what do you want to do today?” Lance prompts. “We could play a video game, maybe, or read some comics, or I could show you around the ship. The training deck might be fun, too. I think it’s got some settings that are less ‘killer training bot’ and more ‘laser tag.’”

Keith chews his bottom lip, as if considering whether to give his answer, until at last he simply shrugs.

“No, it’s okay,” Lance prompts. “I really want to know. Whatever you want to do, I’ll make it happen. I promise.”

Keith stares intently at the ground for a long moment.

“‘M hungry,” he murmurs at last, so quiet Lance almost couldn’t be sure he heard.

“Well you should’ve said something!” Lance exclaims. “No friend of mine goes hungry on my watch.”

Keith doesn’t so much as crack a smile. It doesn’t sit right with Lance, his hesitation to mention something as simple and important as hunger, but he decides not to dwell on it. He won’t do Keith any good by fretting.

“I’ll tell you what,” Lance says. “We’re not gonna have any green space goo today. I think as our special guest on the ship, you deserve something actually edible. And I’ve got just the thing. You wanna come to my room and I’ll show you what it is?”

Keith nods.

“How does a piggyback ride sound? It’ll be faster that way.”

Keith’s brow furrows.

“Piggyback ride?”

“Yeah,” Lance says. “You know, you climb on my back, hold on, and I’ll carry you to where we’re going.”

Keith thinks it over for a moment, and then nods. It doesn’t escape Lance’s notice that he hasn’t spoken more than four words in the entire conversation, and the uneasy feeling in Lance’s stomach only gets stronger.

But it’s likely better to keep up a friendly, energetic facade than to poke and prod at why exactly Keith is so painfully quiet and reserved. He can’t imagine this guarded, shy kid would enjoy questions about his past. So Lance merely gets up from the couch and crouches down with his back in front of Keith.

“Climb on,” Lance offers, and Keith does.

“Good,” Lance continues. “Hold tight around my neck, okay? And squeeze my sides with your legs. Right, just like that. Okay, ready?”

“Mmhm.”

“Then we’re off!”

And with that, Lance stands, gives a brief wave to Hunk and Pidge, and jogs out of the rec room and down the hall. Keith is surprisingly light on his back, and he seems to know exactly how tight to hold onto Lance to keep from slipping without strangling him. That’s Keith, he supposes. He’s always had good instincts.

As Lance jogs through the halls, the oddness of the arrangement doesn’t escape him. He’s giving a piggyback ride through a spaceship to the six-year-old version of his currently twenty-year-old teammate. But the time he’s spent as a part of Voltron has vastly improved his ability to roll with the punches. The team has found themselves in all manner of downright bizarre situations during their time together, so although having a friend reverted to a child perhaps should merit a bit more shock and alarm, Lance finds he can take the whole thing in stride. Shiro was right--it really isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to them.

After a minute or two, they reach Lance’s room. Lance’s breathing is hardly labored--Keith really isn’t very heavy, and the training they engage in makes this sort of quick jog a pretty easy feat.

“We’re here,” Lance says brightly, crouching down and letting Keith clamber off his back.

When he stands and turns back towards Keith, he notices the slightest hint of a smile on Keith’s face. It shouldn’t feel like such a tremendous victory, but it does. Lance gets the impression that coaxing a smile out of six-year-old Keith is even harder than managing one from Keith as an adult, and the pride swells, warm and bright, in his chest.

Lance opens the door to the room and ushers Keith in.

“Here, you sit on the bed, and I’ll get your snack,” he says, rummaging deep into his sock drawer. “I bought these at a bazaar we visited a few weeks back, and I’ve been hiding them from the rest of the team. I wanted to save them for a special occasion, so today seems perfect.”

Lance turns back to Keith with a large, round pastry in hand. It’s coated on top with a pink crust of sugar, and the special packaging the baker had used ensured it would stay fresh for as long as Lance needed. Lance opens the plastic and hands the pastry to Keith, joining him on the bed. It looks enormous in his small hands.

“What is it?” Keith asks.

“Honestly? I’m not sure, exactly. But I bought it because it seems like the space version of  _ pan dulce  _ to me. They used to sell them in my hometown, these huge, delicious pastries with a sugar coating on top. You could walk down to the convenience store and buy one the size of your head. It reminded me of home, I guess, so I bought a bunch as soon as I saw them.”

Keith nods solemnly.

“Are you sure?” he asks softly. “It’s special.”

The hesitant, ashamed way he says it hits like a punch to the gut, but Lance merely ignores it and forces himself to smile.

“That’s  _ why _ I’m sure. What better occasion than sharing it with a friend? And don’t worry, I bought a bunch, so I’ll still have some for later.”

Keith hesitates for a moment, merely staring at the pastry, before he furrows his brow and takes a small, tentative bite. Instantly, his eyes go wide with surprise.

“It’s good,” he says. It sounds like a revelation.

“Glad to hear it,” Lance says brightly. “Go ahead, you can have more. The whole thing is yours.”

“The whole thing?” Keith’s voice is awed and disbelieving.

“Yep, one hundred percent. I’m actually kind of hungry, too, so I’ll get one for myself. Then we can have them together. My mom always said that food tastes better when you share, and I’m pretty sure she’s right.”

Lance heads back to the sock drawer, rummaging around again. He’d had to hide them well--the rest of the team is as bad as his siblings had been about eating other people’s snacks if they’re left out in the open. But just as he finds the pastry tucked away in the far corner of the drawer, Keith gasps, quiet but horrified.

“What’s wrong?” Lance asks, turning back towards him, second pastry in hand. But the answer immediately becomes clear--Keith had dropped his on the floor. But he isn’t moving to pick it up, like Lance would expect. He’s merely staring at it, tears beginning to gather in his wide, strangely terrified eyes.

Lance grabs the bread from the ground and dusts off the bottom, holding it towards Keith. But Keith doesn’t take it. He just keeps staring, mouth twitching around the corners as if he were trying to keep himself from crying.

“Hey, it’s no big deal. Five second rule, right? And I vacuumed in here just the other day, so I promise it’s still good.”

But Keith still doesn’t take the bread.

“It was special,” Keith says, his voice a tremulous whisper.

“Yeah,” Lance says, “and it’s still good. You can still have it. No harm done.”

Keith’s whole body has begun to shake, and the first few tears spill down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

Lance puts both pastries on his bedside table and takes a seat next to Keith, placing a hand on his knee. Immediately, Keith’s eyes go wide and terrified and he nearly jumps out of his skin. Lance quickly pulls his hand away, a sharp, desperate pain flaring in his chest. The last thing he wants to do is frighten Keith any more, not when he’s clearly already scared out of his mind.

“Keith,” Lance says softly. “I’m not angry. Why would I be angry? It was an accident, and there were exactly zero consequences. The bread is still good, and you didn’t even make a mess. So there’s nothing to apologize for, okay?”

Keith shakes his head.

“I’m just stupid. I’m stupid and careless and I always cause problems for everyone and that’s why no one wants me. Because I can’t do anything right. Because I mess everything up. And I’ve got to learn not to be such an idiot if I ever want people to stay.”

A dagger goes clean through Lance’s chest, sharp and agonizing, splintering the top of his ribcage. These words aren’t coming from nowhere; Lance is certain of it. No, Keith is undoubtedly repeating something he’s heard before. Has heard over and over again, Lance would guess, given the confidence with which he says it. Lance knew Keith had a bit of a complicated upbringing, bouncing from foster home to foster home, but he had no idea it had been like this. He didn’t know that as young as six, Keith had been convinced even the slightest mistake would be a perfectly reasonable cause for abandonment. His behavior makes sense, all of it. The hesitation, the fear, the shyness. He was trying desperately not to do anything wrong, however small, because he assumed that Lance would abandon him for even the smallest transgression.

And all at once, Lance’s instincts simply take over. It no longer matters that this is Keith, his friend, his teammate, the most naturally gifted fighter Lance has ever met by far. This is simply a terrified child, and Lance won’t allow himself to second-guess any longer. So he reaches out and gathers Keith in his arms, pulling him onto his lap and holding him close.

For a moment, Keith is perfectly still, his stiff body trembling violently in Lance’s arms. But as Lance begins to rub soothing circles on his back, he slowly relaxes, the tension easing from his body bit by bit until he’s pressing himself against Lance’s chest, his small frame shaking with sobs. And Lance simply holds him, as tight and comforting as he can.

“Keith,” Lance says softly. “You’re not stupid. You don’t cause problems for everyone. You’re a good person, okay? You’re brave and selfless and smart and strong. You’d do anything for the people you care about, no matter what it takes. And things are gonna get better for you. I promise. You’re going to find a family who loves you so much, and they’re never going to get angry at you for stupid mistakes. They’re never going to abandon you. You’re going to find them one day, and they’re gonna be so happy that you did. I promise. You’re going to find them.”

Lance isn’t proud of the way his voice gets unsteady towards the end, but he just can’t bear it, a child suffering like this, believing he’d be cast aside at the slightest mistake. Lance can’t help but wonder if this is the first time anyone has comforted Keith while he was crying, if this is the first time he’s been held and soothed and reassured. He certainly has his suspicions, but he does his best not to dwell on them. Instead, he turns all his attention towards soothing Keith, towards holding him tight, stroking his hair and rubbing his back, for as long as he needs.

Eventually, Keith cries himself out, and from the slow, steady pace of his breathing, Lance can tell he fell asleep. Careful not to wake him, Lance eases Keith off his lap, pulls back the blanket on his bed, settles Keith beneath it, and tucks him in. Save for his swollen eyes, Keith looks peaceful. Far less tense and anxious than he had looked awake. Lance perches beside him on the edge of the bed, and tenderly brushes his hair back from his forehead.

“We probably don’t tell you enough, right?” he murmurs. “That we care about you. That we like having you around. It’s easy to forget to say it, I guess. But starting tomorrow, when this is back to normal, we’re gonna prove it. That we… that we love you, I mean. I promise, Keith. We’re gonna prove it.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, all my love & gratitude for reading this fic. comments are never required, but always appreciated, and i reply to each one!!! i'm also available to holler at via [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/) & really love talking w readers!!!
> 
> take good care until i see you all again!!!! xo


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